


Tapestry

by ElegantPi, KathsAvery



Category: Brave (2012)
Genre: Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantPi/pseuds/ElegantPi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathsAvery/pseuds/KathsAvery





	Tapestry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



A rare bright and sunny day graced the Scottish hills in late autumn, beams of sunlight pouring through the narrow windows of the stairwell as Elinor climbed the stairs to her mother's chamber. She passed the war room, hearing her father and brothers debating who to send out on patrol for the Holy Days. As she ascended, no fewer than 3 maids and a clansman intercepted her, asking questions or seeking clarification on some household detail. Once she reached the top stair, she breathed a sigh of relief. These days, the household looked to her more often than to her mother, and the duty of managing the castle sometimes weighed heavily on her when coupled with the burdens on her heart. With her mother slowly weakening these many years gone, she had been learning to run a castle household not by instruction but by experience. Elinor rapped gently on the stout wooden door to her mother's chamber, then entered and closed the door without a sound so as not to disturb the sleeping queen.

 

The room could do with some tidying, so Elinor set herself to straightening things up, reminiscing over this item or that as she put them away. A soft bristle hairbrush backed with mother-of-pearl. Hair combs fashioned out of bone. These had been gifts of Elinor's father to his bride, young Mary, a delicate beauty and the pride of her clan. For as long as she can remember, Elinor's mother had gently ruled the castle from her bed. Elinor seated herself next to the lady's bed and picked up the tapestry that they started together. Her mother had decided that a scene from the old tale of "King David and the Stag" would be perfect for Elinor to carry to her new home when she was married. Taking up the tapestry needle, Elinor couldn't imagine being married, wasn't sure if she wanted to be, but she knew that she couldn't stay here in her father's castle forever. It wasn't the way of things. She would have her own castle to run, someday.

 

"But if I'm not here, who will take care of you?" she whispered to the dear shape sleeping beneath the bedclothes.

 

At a soft knock on the door, Elinor rose from her seat to receive from the maid a handful of missives, marked with clan seals. Curious, she turned to hold them closer to the sconce in the wall. A movement in the bed caused her to look around, and she saw that her mother had awakened.

 

"Bring those here, my love." Lady Mary beckoned her over. "I've been expecting them."

 

Elinor handed the letters to her mother and took her seat again, picking up her needle. "Shall I brush your hair, Mother?" she asked. Mary shook her head, motioning her to light the candles in the sconces around her bed. Elinor did so.

 

"My dear Elinor, these letters are from the Lairds of the Clans," Lady Mary said, her voice joyful, hopeful. Elinor stared at her, unused to hear so much animation in her mother's soft voice. "They have agreed to come to the tournament." Despite the uplifted tone of her voice, the lady's smile was touched with sadness. "The tournament helps to keep the peace between our clans, a matter of great importance. Come here, darling." Elinor climbed into bed next to her mother, like she used to do when she was a small girl. The queen drew her daughter near and idly stroked Elinor's long, thick hair. "We've spoken of this before, Elinor, though perhaps not as often as we should have. You must understand... You will be betrothed to one of the champions at this tournament."

 

Elinor knew this... had known it... had known the moment would arrive. If not at one of the great tournaments, then through an exchange of letters, gifts and formalities – that, she knew, was how marriages were arranged. Still, she couldn't help herself, knowing that betrothal meant leaving home, and leaving the queen behind. "Mother, I'm not ready! I have... more to learn, more to prepare for! It can't be time... not yet."

 

Lady Mary took Elinor's strong hand in her own, thin and frail as it was. "My sweet child, you know that you are well prepared, for all that I have been too ill to do more than advise you these many years. I have no doubt that you will run your husband's castle with as much grace and love as you have ours." Lady Mary reached up to trace her daughter's cheek with a thin finger. "Do not be afraid, Elinor. The gods will be with you."

 

"I am afraid, a little," Elinor confessed.

 

"So was I, dear. But you see that the gods blessed me with a strong husband, strong sons... and you."

 

Elinor leaned against her mother for a moment longer. Then she straightened her shoulders. "Shall I have your bath drawn, Mother?" she asked, climbing off the bed.

 

Lady Mary smiled at her. "Yes, please. But in a little while. I am still tired." Her eyes looked heavy and dark. Elinor nodded and snuffed the candles in the bed sconces. Lady Mary held out her hand, and Elinor took it. "You are a good girl, Elinor," her mother said. "Take these letters to your father. He should be the one to break the seals. We will speak later of preparations for the tournament. You will have much to do."

 

"Yes, mother," Elinor said. As she took up the sealed missives, she saw her mother's eyes droop and close as her head fell back on the pillows. Then, her steps soft and silent, she left the room, closing the door noiselessly behind her.

 

* * * * *

 

"And Malcolm fell on his bum, giving all the maids quite a show!" Elinor laughed. Bright spring sunshine filled the solar, where her mother held court, warmly wrapped in blankets, smiling as she listened to her daughter's tale.

 

"I am sure... that he has not... learned anything at all," Lady Mary replied. Even the soft laughter and a few words took her breath away now. Elinor treasured the sound of her mother's voice, for she heard it not nearly as often these days. Today had been a good day. Lady Mary seemed stronger today, and Elinor had a fierce, bright hope that maybe the spring sunshine would bring a miracle.

 

"Let me see." Lady Mary gestured for Elinor to bring her chair closer so that her mother could see the latest work on the tapestry. Elinor slipped her needle into place and did as her mother bade her. They had worked diligently for the past six months so that the tapestry might be finished in time to hang in the great hall for the tournament. As Lady Mary's health declined sharply, Elinor took over the task, insisting that her mother rest. When spring arrived, full of sunshine and unusual warmth, Elinor had seen to it that her mother removed to the solar, made comfortable on a warm couch, while Elinor entertained her with stories of preparations for the tournament.

 

"I'm just about to put in the last stitch," Elinor said.

 

"Let me," said Lady Mary. Elinor helped steady her mother's hand on the needle, and together they pulled the last thread into place. Elinor knotted the thread and called three maids over to carry the tapestry nearer the tall windows and spread it out on the floor.

 

"It's beautiful, Mother. See how beautiful! We did it!" Lady Mary smiled, her eyes bright, and she squeezed Elinor's hand.

 

As Elinor looked over at the tapestry, her mother's hand fell away. "Mother?" She turned to see that the light had gone out of Lady Mary's eyes. "Oh no... Mother!" She heard the maids gasp, and one of them began to wail. Gently, she closed her mother's eyes, feeling her own fill with tears. She straightened her mother's hair, smoothing it, and tucked the blanket more securely around her shoulders.

 

"Go to my father and brothers," she told one of the maids who stood nearby, silent and grave. "Tell them to come." The maid nodded and ushered the other two maids out of the room so that Elinor could have one last moment alone with Lady Mary.

 

"Goodbye, Mother," Elinor said, her voice choked with tears. She kissed her mother's cold cheek. "I loved you."

 

* * * * *

 

A sennight later, Elinor sat in her mother's place at the high table. Her father, grave and sad, yet determined to show his strength, had shown his daughter a rough kindness in the weeks after Lady Mary's death. She wished she knew him better. The feast spread across the tables on this, the opening night of the tournament. Her father rose from his seat with his glass held high, calling for attention. "Thank ye all for your attendance. Before we feast, I would like to show ye all the fine work of my daughter so that ye will work even harder to win her hand!"

 

The great hall rang with the roars and cheers of the men. Elinor blushed and looked down at her hands. These men were so rough and boisterous. She felt out of her power, a tiny fish caught in a great current. And one of these was to be her husband. It was too unbelievable.

 

At her father's summons, eight maids entered the great hall, carrying the tapestry depicting "King David and the Stag." The Lord gestured to the tapestry. "I present to you, the work of my daughter, and the last work of my late wife, the Lady Mary." The men, already in their cups, Elinor thought, perhaps would have applauded if they'd been shown scribbles on parchment. Still, she stood and dutifully curtsied to her father.

 

As she took her seat again, the Lord leaned over to speak to her beneath the roar of the crowd. "My daughter, these many weeks have been troubled since your mother left us. You have been a balm to our troubled souls and have done your duty and done it well, as she taught you. For this, I will grant you a gift."

 

Elinor blinked at him. His eyes, sad above his beard, were kind, and she felt that although he didn't know his daughter well and had no idea how to comfort her, he wanted to do the best he could. "Thank you, Father," she said, and he smiled.

 

"The gift is this: you may choose between the champions who will be your groom. I will have your answer tomorrow before the great banquet. And you shall have the finest wedding day this land has ever seen." He smiled, apprehensive.

 

Elinor wasn't certain that this was a gift she wanted, but she couldn't hurt her father or let him know how diffident she felt about marriage, about leaving home, about leaving the little grave in the hills where she had planted bluebells. "Thank you, Father. I hope my choice will bring honor to our family."

 

Her father nodded. "Good girl," he said, clapping her shoulder like he might do with one of her brothers.

 

As soon as she could, Elinor excused herself from the feasting and went to bed, wondering what the morning would bring.

 

* * * * *

 

The day of the tournament dawned overcast and unseasonably cold. Elinor pulled her cloak around her as she tiptoed through the great hall. Thankfully, it was empty. Since breakfast, she had been beset by suitors. Word had gotten around about the Lord's boon to her – that she, Elinor, was given the charge of choosing her own husband, and every man of the clans had taken it upon himself to try and convince her that he was the very best choice. It was all so overwhelming and exhausting. The tournament hadn't even begun, and Elinor had had quite enough. She had no idea how she would make such a choice. The old stories spoke of love between men and women, but she had no idea how love happened, much less how to find the best chance of it in a crowd of men that more closely resembled a herd of rambunctious cattle.

 

The tapestry had been hung in a place of honor on the wall of the great hall. Elinor stood in front of it. "Oh, Mother... I wish you were here. I need your advice." She rubbed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall, for she had no wish to sit in the tournament box with red eyes and a red nose.

 

A slight noise behind her made her jump. She turned to see a giant of a man, red of hair and beard. She started to run away, not wanting to endure another attempt to sway her choice, but his eyes caught at hers, and in them she saw gentleness and a little sadness. So instead of running, she chose to stand still and let him come stand beside her. Fergus, she remembered. That was his name. Fergus.

 

"'Tis beautiful work," he said.

 

"What?" Elinor said, then blushed.

 

Fergus smiled. "The tapestry, I mean. You and your mother did beautiful work on the old tale."

 

"Aye," she said. "'Tis our best work yet."

 

They stared at each other, and then Elinor shifted her gaze to the floor, digging her toe into a crack between the flagstones.

 

"I lost m'father last summer," Fergus said, and she looked up, startled. His face reddened. "That is to say, I was sorry to hear about your mother's passing."

 

"Thank you," Elinor said. "I am sorry about your father."

"Thank you," Fergus replied.

 

More silence.

 

"I should..." Fergus began at the same time that Elinor said, "Would you..."

 

She laughed. "You first."

 

Fergus blushed and smiled shyly. "No, ladies first."

 

It was Elinor's turn to blush. "Would you escort me to the tournament box?" she asked in a rush. "It is almost time, and I'm sure my brothers have forgotten that they have a sister who ought to be escorted. They have to impress all the women who have come from afar with the lairds' households, you know."

 

Fergus laughed. "Oh, I know it," he said. "And... it would be my honor." He offered her his great arm, thick and strong as a well-grown oak sapling. Elinor laid her hand gently on his arm.

 

As they left the great hall, Elinor glanced back at the tapestry. "Thank you, Mother," she said softly, then looked up at Fergus, who looked down at her and smiled.


End file.
